Monsieur Cherami Part 92

"What! have you heard? But let me embrace you again! That scar is tremendously becoming to you, and I am delighted that you have had this duel, in which your adversary evidently didn't fight with a dead arm.

d.a.m.nation! what a slash!--Ah! people won't say now that I fight instead of you; this will put a stopper on all the sneering tongues. But what did you fight about?"

"It was the sequel of a breakfast party of artists, business men, and this one Irish officer. We had plenty to eat and drink. The conversation fell on women, that inexhaustible subject of conversation among young men; I said that the French women, even those who were least pretty, always outdid the women of other countries in dress and carriage; thereupon the Irishman lost his temper, and called me a greenhorn. I threw my napkin in his face; after that, a duel with swords--that was the weapon chosen by my adversary; and this wound healed very slowly and kept me in bed six weeks; otherwise, I should have come home long ago."

"Dear Gustave! Ah! what a n.o.ble scar! It is very becoming, and I congratulate you again."

"But I have no congratulations for you, but reproaches! Pray tell me why you challenged that poor Comte de la Beriniere? what had he done to you?"

"Nothing, to me; but he had done something to you, having stolen your promised bride from you."

"Oh! my friend, if you reflect a moment, you certainly must feel that, on the contrary, he did me a very great service. But for him, I should have married a woman who never had the slightest affection for me, and who did not hesitate to toss me aside like a coat which you discard when you see an opportunity to get a handsomer one at the same price. That woman, who, as a reward of my constancy and the suffering she had caused me, did not hesitate to be a traitor to me a second time! Ah! my friend, I know her now, and I appreciate her at her real worth. A hard, selfish heart, overflowing with vanity, caring for nothing but money, recognizing no merit except that of wealth, incapable of the slightest sacrifice for others, and considering that everything is rightfully due to her. That's the kind of wife I should have had! Should I not be profoundly grateful to the man who was the cause of my rupture with her?"

"Is it really you that I am listening to, Gustave? You, talking in this strain of f.a.n.n.y? Why, then you must be cured at last of your pa.s.sion for her?"

"Oh, yes! radically cured; indeed, Cherami, what would you think of me if I still loved her after her last outrage?"

"I should think that she had cast a spell on you, although I haven't much belief in magic. But you have ceased to love her, that's the main point. You know that the poor count died before he had married her? but not of his wound; he had an attack of indigestion."

"It is very unfortunate for her; but I confess that I don't pity her."

"There is one thing that you don't suspect--that she is now contemplating running after you."

"Let her run, my dear fellow; I promise you that she will never catch me."

"You are quite sure of yourself?"

"Oh, yes! perfectly sure."

"You see, she is a d.a.m.nably shrewd little wheedler, is the widow! I should feel surer of you if you loved somebody else."

"Somebody else! You must admit, Cherami, that my love for f.a.n.n.y hasn't resulted in a way to encourage me."

"All women are not f.a.n.n.ys; there are some who are tender-hearted, sweet, affectionate; who would be so happy to be loved by you."

"Happy to be loved by me! What, in heaven's name, makes you think so?"

"I think so--because I am sure of it."

"You are sure that there is someone who would love me?"

"Oh! better than that; I am sure that someone does love you--cherishes a secret pa.s.sion for you--a sentiment which she has always hidden, kept locked up in the depths of her heart; because it was hopeless, because she was simply the confidante of your love for another."

"Mon Dieu! what do you mean?" cried Gustave, as if his eyes were suddenly opened; "you think that Adolphine----"

"Ah! you have guessed--so much the better; that proves that you had thought of the thing before."

"No, indeed. What makes you think that Adolphine ever gives me a thought?"

"If you hadn't been in love with another woman, you would have discovered it yourself long ago. I had already guessed it from a mult.i.tude of little things: the way she looked at you--for a woman doesn't look at the man that she loves in the same way as at other men; I have studied that subject; but what proved conclusively to me that she loved you was what happened when I went to Monsieur Gerbault's to tell him of poor Auguste's unhappy end. I was embarra.s.sed about telling the story, and I didn't make my meaning clear; Mademoiselle Adolphine thought that it was your death I was trying to tell them of. Instantly she gave a shriek of despair, and fainted; we had a great deal of difficulty in reviving her, and I had to keep saying again and again: 'It isn't Gustave who is dead!' before she recovered her senses. So that I whispered to myself: 'It's this one, and not the other, who cares for my young friend;' and I have a shrewd idea that Papa Gerbault reasoned just as I did."

"Why did you never tell me all this, Cherami?"

"Because it wasn't worth while to sing a pretty tune to a deaf man; you were daft then over your f.a.n.n.y, you wouldn't have listened to me."

"Thanks, my friend, thank you for having observed it all. You cannot conceive the emotion it causes me."

"Why, yes, it's always pleasant to know that one has turned the head of a pretty young girl."

"Poor Adolphine! If it were true! If she really does love me!"

"Why, think of all the offers she has refused! I think I have heard that the count himself wanted to marry her; and a Monsieur de Raincy, and many more. What reason had she for refusing everybody who came forward, if she hadn't love for somebody in her heart? and that somebody was you--and yet she had no hope of marrying you. Oh! what a difference between her and her sister! Well, I've told you what I had to tell you; now, you may act as you please.--But, at all events, you are back again.

I trust that you're not going to start off to-morrow?"

"Oh! I shall not go away again; I've had enough of travelling; I am going to settle down in Paris now."

"Good! _vive la joie!_ But do you know that your uncle is still unrelenting to me? He received me very coldly when I asked him for employment."

"Never fear, my friend; I am here now, I will look about for you, and we will arrange all that."

"Very good; I will go, for you must have much to do; when shall I see you again?"

"Come in a few days, and I will tell you--yes, I will tell you what I have done."

"Agreed. Au revoir! My friend has returned; I have my cue!"

LXI

LOVE REWARDED

Gustave remained for a long time buried in thought; what Cherami had said to him on the subject of Adolphine had moved him profoundly. With a heart so easily touched, a heart made to love, Gustave had as yet met with nothing but falsehood and perfidy. He remembered now a thousand occasions on which f.a.n.n.y's sister had shown the deepest interest in him; she was always kind to him, always had some consolation to give him; he recalled, too, her habitual melancholy, her sad smile, and the sighs which she tried in vain to restrain when he held her hand. Having pa.s.sed in review all these memories, the young man hastily left the house, saying to himself:

"I will go to see her; I will read in her eyes whether she really loves me."

Adolphine was in her room, working at her embroidery frame; Madeleine was hovering about her mistress, pretending to arrange the furniture.

Madeleine was an excellent girl, who had divined that her mistress was in love. She had noticed that she never smiled or seemed happy, except when Gustave came to see her; but she had heard it said that he was going to marry her mistress's sister, whereupon Adolphine had become more melancholy than ever. Later, it was said that the marriage was broken off, and yet Adolphine never smiled; to be sure, the young man who always brought a smile to her lips had ceased to come.

Madeleine would have been glad to have her young mistress confide her secret to her; but she confined in the lowest depths of her heart a pa.s.sion which she believed to be well hidden. However, the maid succeeded occasionally, by dint of beating about the bush, in extorting a few words, which she made the most of.

"Mamzelle," said Madeleine, "isn't it very strange that madame your sister never comes to see you now?"

"My father was angry with her, you know."

"That didn't prevent her coming here when she wanted to find out who had had the audacity to fight with her count. She was sure it was Monsieur Gustave. But you told her she was mistaken, and you were right. Why should Monsieur Gustave fight for her, I should like to know, when she keeps making sport of him? A man doesn't fight, except for a person he loves; and I am very sure, for my part, that Monsieur Gustave never gives your sister a thought now."